


Orpheus

by Tamatoa



Category: Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
Genre: Artist AU, M/M, Modern AU, Rating May Change, Unhealthy Relationships, who reads these fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamatoa/pseuds/Tamatoa
Summary: “It’s meant to imply whatever you want it to. That’s why I call it Orpheus. The viewer is meant to look back—““Even after they already know what’s under the surface. They find their own meaning.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The artist/model au nobody asked for. Again, if you’re looking up Heart of Darkness fanfiction, thanks for being cool.

Nick wrung his hands as he paced around Marlow’s studio for what must have been the hundredth time, then finally spun around with a dramatic gesture towards the largest of the paintings. “Okay, so from a purely technical standpoint, you’re great. Sort of Henry Scott Tuke, sort of Théodore Géricault. You’re a real renaissance man, Charlie. Now, you wanted my honest opinion as an art critic, not as your friend, so here it is.” He looked back towards Marlow, returned his focus to the painting, and sighed. “These won’t sell for shit. Nobody wants a painting like that staring down into their soul except a museum curator, and even that’s only if he knows it’s by someone who’s already in the books. You’re close, but not quite there yet.”

“What’s wrong with them?” They looked the same way his paintings of Kurtz always did, if a little darker and more heavily symbolic. He told himself it was a new period of his art, trying to minimize the fact that no other faces had appeared in these paintings for nearly a year. Everything was Kurtz. 

Nick looked over the closest of them again. One central figure, dark tones. Sharp, angular features brought out by the high contrast from a glaring studio light, the same haughty possessiveness of the expression contrasting with the careless sort of sprawling posture. He couldn’t decide whether those eyes commanded worship or fear. Maybe both. He settled on a more base criticism. “They creep me the fuck out is what’s wrong with them!” 

“You’re shitting me.” Marlow laughed, then looked back towards Nick. “Tell me you’re shitting me.” The possibility that Nick was shitting him looked slimmer by the minute. Not a good start to the meeting. 

Nick jumped a little as Marlow stalked towards him, immediately launching into a defense of his criticism. “Your model’s too intense. Looks like he’s getting off to the thought of dissecting me alive.” He thought for a minute, took two steps back to stare at the painting, and snapped his fingers. “You need something to temper all that brooding darkness if you want any of your stuff in my Christmas galleria.”

“A new model?” Marlow shook his head, already mentally going through Kurtz’s possible reactions to the idea. “You know I can’t—“

“Look. I don’t care how sweet he can talk while he’s got you bent over your desk, but the fact of the matter is that your obsession with this guy is killing your business. And,” Nick smirked, conspiratorially placing an arm around Marlow’s shoulders, “I said ‘temper,’ not ‘replace’.” 

He shrugged Nick’s arm off and stepped away. “What are you saying?”

“All I’m saying is that you need a little something sweet in there to take the edge off.” Nick’s hands went up defensively, then back to Marlow’s shoulders, this time keeping him at arms length. Studying him. “Like your color theory projects from a few years ago. Get out of the heart of darkness, as they say. Do whatever you want with that.” He released his grip after a few seconds, picking his coat up from the easel and heading out the door before Marlow had a chance to respond. “See you around! Get your head out of your ass before Christmas!”


	2. Prometheus

Marlow stared down at his sketch pad, still lost in thought from his talk with Nick the day before. The slightest glance up at Kurtz only reminded him of the inevitability of a hard conversation. Too intense, too overpowering, too... everything. Even draped over the apartment’s singular armchair, cradling a hand mirror, there was something unsettling about him. Like a jungle cat waiting to pounce from a tree. He sighed, feeling those eyes focus on him instead of the mirror. “No, not like that. More vulnerable, you’re not supposed to scare people in this one. It’s Narcissus. He’s trapped in his own reflection, he’s—“

“I’m afraid I don’t understand exactly what you mean. Show me?” Kurtz purred, making it impossible to mistake his tone of voice for anything but a come-on. “Good, you’re getting it now. I like the way you’ve been looking at me all evening, so this is me telling you that it’s okay to take a break and touch me.”

Marlow sighed, than stood up from his seat at the easel and made his way over to Kurtz’s chair. “And this is me telling you for the third time that tonight is a work night. I love you, but I still have commissions to get through before the holidays.”

“Boring.” The carefully set posture slid into a fluid line of action as Kurtz stretched, then settled back into place. One hand rested on his thigh, slowly trailing up until Marlow had to wrench his gaze away to focus on the words. “At least work on a more interesting one. Prometheus has such lovely shading. The brushstrokes really jump out.”

“You just don’t want to admit that you like getting tied up.” And Marlow didn’t want to admit that he liked being the one to do the tying. Prometheus was yet to see a completely productive session through. ‘Letting the paint dry’ could only go so far as an excuse. 

“Guilty as charged. A lot more than I like sitting around with all my clothes on.” Kurtz brought his other hand up to slowly undo a few buttons of his shirt. Even one more second of Marlow standing there and not getting the hint was enough to bring irritation into his voice. “Just touch me already.”

“Fine.” Marlow reached out hesitantly, letting one hand trace over Kurtz’s hip, then pulled away. “One more hour.”

“I’m glad that you don’t just take photo references, but some of your new commissioners really grate on my nerves.” He scooped the mirror up from where he had discarded it on the floor, angling it to flash the harsh lamplight into Marlow’s eyes. “Can’t you just tell these people that you don’t do boring paintings?” 

Marlow snatched the mirror away, earning a sound of protest. “That’s not how we get business.” That was definitely a conversation for another day. “If you stay still, we can finish Prometheus tomorrow.” 

“You really know the way to my heart. Draw me like one of your French girls.” Kurtz stretched again, then shifted back into the pose. “Just remember, you promised. You’re lucky I’m so tired, I won’t put up with this every night.”

The hour passed in about forty minutes, as the clock hadn’t been rewound in several weeks


	3. Hyacinthius

The night was almost over, and Marlow still hadn’t brought up his conversation with Nick. He let his eyes drift shut, mentally filing the topic away for another day, but opened them again as he felt Kurtz’s arms wrap around his waist. The longer he waited, the worse the reaction would likely be. He took a deep breath, then shifted around to bring them face to face. “Nick wants another model added in for the next painting.”

“Nick wants to jerk off to the thought of us two having a threesome.” Kurtz’s tone was flippant, but tinged with uncertainty as he continued. “You told him where to shove his other model, right?”

Marlow braced himself for whatever might happen next. “Actually, I thought that it might be a good idea.”

“What?”

“I need some practice on different faces,” he said matter-of-factly, pressing a quick kiss to Kurtz’s forehead, “you’re slipping into everything I paint.”

“Good. You’re all mine.”

“You’re acting like I’d be cheating on you.”

“You would be.”

This reaction was more extreme than anything Marlow had anticipated. He slid off the bed, backing up defensively, then flinched as his back hit the wall.

“One model.” Marlow’s hands went up, then flattened to his sides as Kurtz drew closer. “Strictly professional. I won’t even have them over here if you don’t want that. You’d never need to be in the same building.”

“Hmm. You, and a model that Nick thinks is prettier than me, all alone for hours on end in your studio?” Kurtz placed one hand on the wall, lifting the other up to run through Marlow’s hair. “Surprisingly, I fucking hate that idea.”

“You know, you’re getting to be sort of a jealous prick.” The words hung in the air and Marlow shivered, suddenly feeling trapped. 

“I think I have that right. You seem awfully eager to have someone else under your brush.” The hand in Marlow’s hair tightened into a fist, pulling down to force his chin up. Their eyes met, and Kurtz smiled. “That’s better. Look at me while I’m talking to you. Are you bored with me?”

“Of course not! Why would you think—“ his breath hitched as Kurtz shoved him back against the wall, pressing a knee between his thighs. “It’s not anything like that.” 

One more look, and Marlow was done for. It was moments like this, all raw sensation and power, that had made Kurtz his muse in the first place— the indomitable presence of him that could command without a word— and he loved it. He became dimly aware of their mouths pressing together, harsh and disjointed, then of an overwhelming need for air. 

Kurtz pulled away from the kiss after a few more seconds, but kept a hand on the back of Marlow’s neck. “You’re right. I overreacted. I trust your judgement, but I still have two conditions. One, I help you pick out this model. Two, you don’t have to be alone with them. We’re in the same painting, you don’t need two different sessions.”

Marlow was still breathing hard, leaning back on the wall as he waited for his head to stop spinning. “Thank you.”

“I love you.” Kurtz looked at him for a long moment, then walked out the door


	4. Icarus

People-watching in a crowded indie café was not how Marlow had planned to spend his free evening. The position of their table gave them a decent view of the rest of the costumers, but no one had particularly stood out since they had arrived. He shivered as a large group invited in freezing wind and a trail of snowflakes behind them. “It would be a lot easier to just put out an advertisement.”

“And a lot less fun. How about her?” Kurtz pointed across the café at a power-suited woman with long braids that called the legend of Medusa to mind. “She looks like she’d keep things professional.”

Professional. Of course. “This model is supposed to contrast with you. She could be your styling consultant.”

“I’m not that stuffy. My suits are much sexier than that.” Kurtz’s tone shifted into annoyance as Marlow stared past him towards the front of the café. “Are you even listening to—“

There. Blonde curls haloed by the steam of the espresso machines. A slight figure, moving in quick bursts of motion like a hummingbird. “Him.”

“Who?”

“Behind the counter, the blonde.” Marlow couldn’t bring himself to look away. “He’s perfect.” 

Kurtz followed Marlow’s gaze, then gave an appreciative nod. “It looks like he’s going on break. I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m the artist, I should do it.” 

“You’re being petty,” Kurtz snapped, “and you haven’t had your coffee yet. Watch this.”

“Kurtz!”

Kurtz ignored Marlow, snatching up his near-empty coffee cup and making his way towards the recycling station. He narrowly avoided a collision with another customer, stepped to the side, then spun around just in time to stumble right into the blonde. “Pardon me—“

“Sorry! I wasn’t watching, it’s—“ His eyes widened in shock as he looked up at Kurtz’s face. “Oh!”

“Oh?” 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, still fixated on Kurtz, “You’re the model for Orpheus!”

“I am.” Smooth. Kurtz was at a complete loss for words in the moment, staring down at the most awed expression he had seen in his life.

“I wrote a whole paper on that painting! We had to choose a local artist and— oh, I’m sorry. You look exactly the same in person, but just a little— you know,” he blushed, stammering a little as Kurtz smiled, “Charles Marlow’s one of the truly great artists of our time. I told my whole class, I think he’s the next Da Vinci. He’s incredible.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Vitaly Novak. God, this doesn’t even seem real. I’m sorry, you must get this practically every day.” Vitaly glanced down, twirling a lock of hair nervously.

“Never, actually. This is my first time.” Kurtz let the pause between the words drag out, watching Vitaly’s blush deepen even further. “Being noticed like this. I feel like a celebrity.”

“Are you free this afternoon? My shift just ended, and if it’s all right with you I’d like to talk. Not in a weird way, just in general. About art.”

“For you? Of course. I’m all yours.” Kurtz sighed. “Well, I do have a friend I’m supposed to catch up with. I’m sure the two of you could find a lot to discuss. Oh, there he is now.” He gestured towards the table where Marlow sat.

Vitaly’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that—“

“Yes. Want me to introduce you?”

“Wow. I’m... I don’t know.” A strange moment of clarity made him realize the absurdity of the whole situation, and he laughed nervously. “I’m dressed for work, oh god.”

“You’re perfect. Don’t worry


End file.
